


Why do We Assume it’s What They Would’ve Wanted?

by bitchgrayson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Dick Grayson is a Talon, I have No Excuse, im depressed ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:17:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchgrayson/pseuds/bitchgrayson
Summary: Dick has been missing for years. They learned to cope. (if you can interpret this fic, you’re a champ.)





	Why do We Assume it’s What They Would’ve Wanted?

 At first it was rage.

 

The blinding kind, that outweighed all numbness and brought crueler strikes to his kills. Talon was typically quick, in order to prevent unnecessary screams that could lead to potential witnesses. 

 

But Talon didn’t care anymore. He could always kill those too.

 

Now, Talon would slice and slice and  slice  down on the heated flesh with no hint of mercy. Their tortured cries would meet deaf ears that were focused on the echoes of past promises.

 

Amongst the haze, Talon imagined each stab to land on  _them_.  The ones who had forgotten him. 

 

The corpses became unidentifiable. It was just torn skin, battered and broken, seeping with the ghost of life. 

 

It was then when Talon did something strange. 

 

Talon examined his prey for once, after the intense fog had been lifted, and stared intently at his work. 

 

It was...  wrong . The gashes hatching amongst the ground-up tissue shouldn’t be there. It should be together.  _ THEY SHOULD BE TOGETHER. _

 

Talon snagged a syringe from his utility belt, broke off the needle, fished out some wire, and began to stitchthe tattered limbs with close precision. 

 

Talon typically worked on automatic. He was unsure if this was something the court had trained him to do. But Talon   _had to fix it he had to mend together what had been taken away from him_. no. Talon had been taken away from _them_.

 

Talon didn’t bother looking over his handy work after the first few failed sutures. Talon left the body scattered in the cracked floor of flimsy apartment and fled out the window.

 

In the safeness of the alleyway shadows, Talon tried to recall what he had seen the other day. What had started this fit on fury ongoing in his empty mind.

 

**_ “Damian! Happy Birthday!” _ **

 

**_ Through the window, Talon could see a boy, no older than 18, grinning up at a raven haired man. _ **

 

**_ “Your congratulations is much appreciated, Todd.” _ **

 

**_ “No probs, Spawn of Satan. Hey, where’s Timbo with the cake, huh?” _ **

 

**_ The flock (No that wasn’t right... family?) sung a scratchy tune that hurt Talon’s sensitive ears. Everything was ringing around him. Phasing in and out of focus. In and out of memories.  _ **

 

**_ Them. _ **

 

**_ It was them. _ **

**__ **

 

Talon remembered how content the flock had looked, with stupidly wide grins Talon could only ever recreate in the carved faces of his victims. 

 

They were complete. 

 

Complete without Talon.

 

 


End file.
